


You're here

by LittleGreenPlasticSoldier



Series: OnTheWayto4K Celebration [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Keep Fighting, Angst, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, RPF, Supernatural Convention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier/pseuds/LittleGreenPlasticSoldier
Summary: Anon asked: ...Could you write a fic where a girl goes to a con and Jared sees her sitting in the hallway crying and he just sits next to her and comforts her?...





	You're here

**Author's Note:**

> I don't generally write RPF but considering the content, I figured the man himself probably wouldn't mind.

So you’re here. You made it to the venue, you sat in the seats, and you looked at all the queues and couldn’t quite get your brain or legs to work together to pick a line, or math some extras, or anything. Technically you couldn’t afford anything but you felt like there was a vague idea of maybe something but no… you’re here. That’s about it.

You think maybe you’ve overshot on the privacy here. This corridor has no one. You can’t even really hear the merch stands, nor the stage. A strange wash of light dread flushes through you: What if everyone left? You’d be the only one in the building, unaware of the evacuation. Pretend they did it by mic and not alarm. It’s an apocalyptic exhilaration to think of yourself alone on that scale, the only one in the building. It’s a feeling at least.

What are you even doing here? How did you decide to do this with everything else going on?

On the floor, you sit and stare at the opposite wall and wish for company, and solitude, and attention, and privacy, and supervision, and strength, but they all feel like words more than things. 

But then if you’re crying, you feel something right? There’s more, right?

A cluster of people burst into the corridor, or at least their sound does. You shift, pulling your knees up a little and as the noise comes closer you turn away some, not wanting to know who they are, or if they see you, inviting them to just pretend you don’t exist.

The noises pass, though you hear a quick “‘Kay we’ll see you in five,” and when the door closes there are footsteps, coming towards you, and you gather your things because they’re about to ask you to leave an area you shouldn’t be in.

“Hey, how y’doin’?”

He scoots down to the floor beside you and you glance up at a face you know better than your own, even blurred by tears.

“Oh no! No-no-no!-”

“Hey it’s okay!”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You put your hands over your face, mortified.

“No! Hey-hey-hey-” Jared wraps his hand around your forearm, places the other on your shoulder. “Hey, I wouldn’a sat down if I didn’t want to.”

He gives you a few minutes to try to not sob, and to breathe, and get it together enough to take your hands away. And when you do, you try to look at him kindly, with thanks, but your chin still wobbles.

“You’re havin’ a rough day,” he says.

That’s a way to say it. “Yeah, a few of them.”

“Do you have somethin’, like a mantra, or a phrase, you use to help when you’re down?”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, feeling terrible for not even having that. “I’m just really… real tired.”

“That’s okay,” he smiles. “That’s normal. You wanna think of one now?”

You think of all the words he’s likely to say and shrug. “I’m not sure I’m much of a fighter.”

“Okay but look at the evidence,” he says. He rolls over onto his knees to face you, taking your hand in his, palm to palm. He’s gentle but his energy that almost scares you. “Look at it all; you’re here. You got up this morning, at a stupid hour, got dressed, and got yourself here to enjoy your day. And I know you paid-”

Yep, that’s why you did it.

“-but that’s not why you did it,” he says. “You could’a stayed home and no one would be the wiser. The money’s gone and spent. You coulda’ just decided to not go to all the effort it takes for you to get up and going and out.“

“It felt really automatic.” _Why, why am I arguing with Jared Padalecki. What kind of stupid asshole am I?!_ But Jared smiles, bright and broad. He pulls on your hold and you follow, unwilling to do anything but what he’s asking, and end up on your knees too.

He leads you into a hug. It’s a little wonky, but his hand’s on the back of your head, pressing you against him, warm and kind, and you stare stunned over his shoulder, feeling his strong and slender form holding you. “I’m gonna remember this. You feel how strong you hold me?”

He’s right. You’re arms are doing what you would want them to do, on a good day. You holding onto Jared Padalecki like he’s as light as he looks, keeping you afloat.

“That’s a good hug… I’m gonna remember this.“ He still holds you, unrelenting. “I meet all these people who think they’re aren’t fighters because they don’t yell, or they aren’t strong because they don’t punch. This is your strength. You keep going, you hold. I’m going to remember this hug for a long, long time.“

He pulls back and puts a hand to your cheek. “I hope you do too.” He looks at you pointedly. _For a long long time._ And it almost transforms you on the spot. “The days change. Every day is different. Every day, you’re different. Keep going, and holding, and you’ll see things change.”

You nod, smiling again.

“You think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” you laugh-sob, and sniff yourself back to okay. “Yeah I think I can listen to my hero tell me to keep going.”

“Daw, don’t make me blush.”

You laugh again, hiccuping it short.

“No, seriously, people ask me if I’m okay. I think they’re afraid I’ll start sweating.”

You giggle again, saying “You could sell that. People would buy it.” Oh God, why did you brain do that.

“Blergh,” he says, grinning and shuddering. He’s heard people brain fart before, obviously.

You look down and blink your tight eyes at your lap and see Jared’s warm hand hooked on yours, the thumbs hugging each other just like you did. Those are his knuckles, that’s his hairy arm poking out of the cuff, his life force throbbing through your hold. 

It is hard, but things could be a lot worse.

“Hey where’s your seat?” he asks.

“Uh, towards the front of the top tier. On the, um, the far side.”

“Well, we’re about to go on. I’ll be lookin’ for you.”

You gaze up at him again. Really? He’s literally going to look for you? Not that your blotchy face will be hard to miss, but holy shit.

You marvel at your luck, the luck of knowing of him. He’s all scruffy and normal. Pores and wayward hair, coffee breath too. But there is no part of him that is anywhere else - he’s right here with you, and for you. They frikken woulda called him Jesus in another time. 

With a nod to check, he pushes back onto his feet, helping you stand, and holds your hand still as you pull your bag onto your shoulder. 

“Okay,” he says. Letting the grasp go, he squeezes your shoulder instead. You grab your hand to capture the warmth.

“Thank you!” you think to say. “Just-”

“Hey,” he pats the air in your direction. “Don’t even think about it. My pleasure. Seriously.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you out there,” he smiles, and squeezes your shoulder to let you go. He goes to the door then and you move too, as you should, but he waits before opening it, watching you head down the corridor. You smile at him in curiosity, and he nods you on your way: He doesn’t want to be the first to leave.

So you walk, out the corridor, into the foyer, straight to your door and find your seat. The girl next to you starts talking almost immediately - where you from, where she’s from, how long have you watched, how long she’s watched, the tickets, the ops, the last con, the gag reels - it’s perfect, the perfect happy distraction to keep you high. Before you go home, you’re going to breathe deep and be damn pleased you decided to spend your day this way. 

They announce Jared and Jensen and the noise peaks. You breathe deep and remember being here is enough. It reminds you of fun, before the end it’ll feel like fun enough to make you lose track of time and place.

The boys stroll in, waving at everyone, two hands, and punching the air, doing their thing. “Thank you!” Jensen says. “Thank y’all!”

Jared claps at everyone, spreading it around, and he sweeps his gaze across the lower level, but when he looks up at your seats he sees you, straight away and points _You,_ he mouths. _Thank you_ , kisses two fingers and sends it your way with a smile and a nod, and your heart bursts with a brightness bigger than you thought your body could generate. Proof positive of what he said. Proof of you and what you are.

“Oh my good, it looked like he look right at you then!” your neighbour says. “Right into your eyes!”

“Sure felt like it!”

It’s amazing what a burst of sunshine can do for the way things look.


End file.
